Saturday, June 18, 2016

The Fires of Hell on Earth

Every single day I think about my FB friends and wonder how each one is.  I was really blessed with an incredible memory because for each person who passed a comment on my previous post … I know you.  You are not one of a crowd.  You are an individual and I remember you from the first time we became FB friends; I remember what you have told me, what you do and the things that lie within your heart … the things you shared with me that remain exactly where you left them – in my heart.
I wonder why it is that we have to learn things about ourselves by going through the fire that rages around us!  I look back over the last six months and realize that only when my memory was taken from me did I acknowledge to myself that my mind was the most important thing that I possessed. 
Last night I wrote in big capital letters the following words: “LIVE WELL” and underneath that in the smallest writing I had written “how?”  Actually, today that page is very funny. 
When I think that I am helpless, I always look around to see who I can help but this time, I felt that since I can’t help myself, how the fuck could I help someone else.  Slowly, like a plant growing out of a crack in the cement, I began to make a list of the things that I can do well.  Just like it took me a long time to learn to like and love myself, it took long hours to find that I can do some things well.  I can communicate, summarize, have compassion, empathy and I am crazy enough to believe anything is possible.  The “me” that is “me”, is already a miracle!  And reading your comments has made me realize that I can mean something to someone else, sitting right here alone on my bed.  I don’t need to have people around me.  I don’t need to be constantly reminded that I am worthwhile.  I already am worthwhile.  The most amazing thing I learned over these six wilderness months was that you can pray when words and language and memory are taken away – you hum … you sing and then you find that He and Me are one … right there with you, inside of you, around you, above and below and all one needs to do is to dedicate that “thing” towards healing the “me” that is lost and/or sick.  For me, that “thing” was my tears.  I turned my tears into prayers.  This must have been how the ancients used sound to maintain their essential selves.  I am no history buff, but it kind of makes sense to me now.  I am going to share something that is very personal with you.  Maybe my words will resonate with someone else.
May my tears be my prayers of hope
May my tears keep me close to You
By Your grace alone, I survive
You are my refuge, my comfort and guide.
May my tears be my prayers of thanks
May my tears be my prayers of love
All that I am and all that I have, are riches that come from You.
May my tears be my prayers of peace
You alone protect and guide
Lord, be with my mother
Lord, be with my children
Lord be with Patrick, every moment of every day.
 May my tears turn to smiles
That my soul sees a rainbow
You alone know our needs and
You alone answer our prayers
Lord, I know You care for me.
Stay with me Lord, oh! Stay with me Lord, until You call me home.
Carry me Father, carry me home; I’m tired and need Your help.

These words have inspired me to put music to them and I have learned to play the harmonica.  Where the sounds came from that match these words perfectly can only have come from a place that is not earth-bound.  I am no musician and nor am I a religious boffin … but somehow I have been led to create something beautiful for me to use to keep Him close to me at all times.   My prayer and hope is that you too find that comfort that will take you through the fires of hell on earth. 
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